


A Good Time

by coefore



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Compliant, Dystopia, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Multi, Other, With oc designs at the bottom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-02-15 18:08:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18674818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coefore/pseuds/coefore
Summary: Do disposablesknowthings?Vaporwave started wondering what that question actually meant, because he was sure he knew things per se. His two renters wondered if he was enjoying the show, earlier, but what they probably meant was if he could. Rationally, his mind shouted an “of course” that echoed in throughout his little frame, but if he admitted all disposables could, indeed, enjoy things the same as free bots, then it would also mean there was no reason for such a divide. It would all fall down an shatter like glass.An original story about a little screen and a jet surviving.





	1. MIST RISES I

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for choosing to read this story. I will add all character designs at the end of each chapter! :)
> 
> Thanks to Cissy for the beta!
> 
> klik = minute  
> cycle= hour  
> mega-cycle= day  
> deca-cycle= three weeks  
> Vorn = year

 

 

 

 Synthetized music, rushed beats, rhythmical, frenetic. Voices remixed, electronic spurs.

 

“Do you think it enjoys the show?”

 

A mischievous voice spat out, the mech attached to it a flier. They hopped onto their much larger partner’s lap, already grinding his panel onto the smaller frame. The other smirked, his visor shining a bright blue, sliding a hand down his mate’s back, almost possessively.

 

“Dunno love,” he laughed, “plays good music tho.”

 

The room only lightened up by their feverish blue optics, as both heads turned towards the source of their background music. The small minibot in the corner of the room stared in front of themselves with dimmed optics, not focusing on anything in particular, the yellow light coming from them barely noticeable. On their mauve chassis, a boxy screen showed clear images of some beautiful exotic extra-terrestrial landscapes, but the minibot stood still, unmoving.

 

The back of his head was an elongated, removable teal loudspeaker, whence the heated music came in streams with momentum, helping the two lovers into the mood. The larger one, seated on a big armchair, moaned in pleasure as the other disappeared from sight, lowering themselves.

 

Vaporwave didn’t flinch. He wasn’t supposed to act much differently from a drone. Transform if picked up by bigger bots, speak only for inquiries by his rental master. He wasn’t supposed to react. Yet, people kept choosing him for their private, dirty times, as if they were indeed searching for a voyeur, bringing him out for the night not only to have fancy music playing in the background as cables and snapped panels unfolded upon him, but to get the enjoyment of showing off to a helpless disposable. His only option, to dim down his optics and think about something else.

 

Think about music.

 

As the two mechs became louder and wilder, Vaporwave’s mind went to places, lost into the sound embracing him in comfort.

ー

The hotel he was left at was fancy, luscious decorations adorned the place as dim, yellow lights welcomed couples that wanted to spend time alone, forgetting about their problems. Vaporwave sat in his alt-mode inside a small basket, with a nice view on the people passing through the door on his side. He was tired of waiting, but the delivery bot that usually roamed the area was late, he noted checking the time and grumbling to himself.

The day had left an awful feeling on his body and the loneliness of the wait was making his mind race in places he didn’t enjoy dwelling in. His attention focused on the old mech sitting at the reception, reading the news on their desk screen, reclined on the chair. That got Vaporwave thinking, his brain cogs churning on recalling how young he was in comparison to almost everyone he saw on a daily basis, and most of the time older bots would indeed treat him like a newbuild. It bothered him to a certain degree, as he was proud of being at least forty vorns old and looked at the youngsters in his dorm shuffling around with annoyance. They didn’t know anything, the fools!

But his train of thoughts on ages came to a halt, as a new intrusive link popped up.

Do disposables _know_ things?

Vaporwave started wondering what that question actually meant, because he was sure he knew things per se. His two renters wondered if he was enjoying the show, earlier, but what they probably meant was if he _could_. Rationally, his mind shouted an “of course” that echoed in throughout his little frame, but if he admitted all disposables could, indeed, enjoy things the same as free bots, then it would also mean there was no reason for such a divide. It would all fall down an shatter like glass.

He saw that even among the free cybertronians roaming the planet, the ones who were made or forged for menial jobs were treated worse than the higher ups, the medics, architects, artists, and those, too, were lower in the pyramid in comparison to Senators andー the Prime. But nobody was ever questioned on their ability to think and act like a sentient being. Yet, disposables were on this arbitrary line.

Could they?

_Could we?_

In his dormitory, everyone was a person. In front of his optics, those disposable minibots fell in love, bonded, made friends, were hurt, had passions and hobbies (duly hidden by the attendants and firm managers) and he couldn’t notice any discernible difference from the bots that would rent them for leisure. They all taught each other how to read and write, as those type of data downloads were them precluded. There was a sense of unity and solidarity among them all, but maybe that just wasn’t how free bots functioned.

His gaze had dropped to the bright pink floor, small triangles decorating the surface with old timey patterns.

Vaporwave _knew_ some things, of that he was certain. It just felt like Primus had played a trick to all of them. _Maybe_ , he thought, _maybe I don’t want to be a music player_.

_Maybe_ , Vaporwave felt his engine hiccup at the sight of the delivery bot nodding to the receptionist in front of him, almost scared his own musings were somehow being too loud and someone could listen in, _maybe I want to compose music._

The bot picked him up without a word and they left.

\--

A different type of music, the overbearing and noisy gurgle of sounds coming from the speakers of the raunchy bar he was seated in. Around him, nothing but big working frames, giants over Vaporwave and his polished, sweetly coloured body, as his friend usually regarded it. Said friend arrived at the table, setting down two glasses of high grade and slumping on the seat in front of him.

“Here’s for the cutie.”

“Stop that. You know I’m not a dainty bot or, uh,” Vaporwave shrugged, “whatever.”

 

His reply was accompanied with his nose curling up, slightly embarrassed of being called _cutie_ , or even _sweetly_ coloured, but the other mech’s response was just a bigger, naughty smile.

 

“Oh, oh, come on darling bot, with those adorable little thingies right above your helm?”

 

The black and orange frame reached out a hand to tap with a finger on one of the triangular shapes rising up from the front part of Vaporwave’s helm.

 

“Sometimes I envy them.”

 

Nightcore moved his finger down and bopped his friend’s prominent nose, making Vaporwave reach for his faceplate with both hands, covering the assaulted part with a shy look, slowly devolving into a slight frown. His friend was, in a word, a pest. They shared the same frame type, and also the same living space, so they ended up together most of the time. Their relationship had always been Nightcore amiably bullying Vaporwave for his less friendly demeanor, in contrast with the other’s boasting, egocentric behaviour.

 

“Stop being a fool!”

 

He snapped, his frown growing deeper, as Nightcore took a long sip from his cube, grinning like a bot who had just won a war.

Vaporwave found Nightcoreー fascinating. He was entranced by the way he spoke and act so openly on his own accord, the courage and strong will to act like that was something incredible to Vaporwave’s optics. Deep down, there was something melting inside of him at every kind approach his friend held out for him as if he was something special. Someone special.

“You even dragged me _here_ , and you’re sitting there drinking _high-grade_.”

 

“Shush, shush.” A black finger rose up again to quiet down the other feisty mech. “It’s a bar. Do you want me to go and find something else of interest?”

Nightcore, among other things, was also the biggest cause of Vaporwave’s frustration.

“We’re not supposed to, Core!”

 

Nightcore, Vaporwave assumed, didn’t mind the place that much, as he blended well amongst all the thugs and workers often seen there, mostly because his lax moral compass and his darker paintjob served as a shield from unwanted eyes. Keyword was unwanted, as Nightcore had grown famous in the area for specifics Vaporwave didn’t want to delve too much on. Rumors in their dormitory of him being a buymech to actually possess money, made his proform shrink; because Nightcore _did_ own money.

 

Sometimes Vaporwave wished his friend would stop being so convincing in sneaking outside, especially to roam parts of the city they weren’t allowed to enter because of class regulations; disposables weren’t supposed to drink enjex either, which seemedー unfair. The work frames could get wasted to forget about the day, but the disposables had to always stay lucid.

 

That didn’t mean anyone in that place would consider themselves to be actually _free_ , but most meches there were paid - either with energon or shanix - for the job they provided as a service to the community – or so the Senate would sell it, so it felt more liberating to compare with the disposables. He could always hear the snickers following him, the stares, someone barking _drone_ behind their backs as his faceplate light up in shame. In those scenarios, Nightcore would make a cursing gestures to the accusers, grabbing Vaporwave’s hand and hold it tightly, and his smile would be somewhat reassuring. A reminder that Nightcore knew. He knew many things. And one of them was that they were the same as any other bot on that old, sad planet of theirs. Sentient. Online. Luck just wasn’t on their side.

 

“Dear, we’re not supposed to do _a lot of stuff_ ,” Nightcore huffed, pushing Vaporwave’s own cube closer to him, “but see, how am I supposed to have fun otherwise? Besides, I left Breaky as a lookout for us.”

 

All was slowly getting more and more uncomfortable. It had been a mistake, his mind whispered,ò and the music was blasting into Vaporwave’s audials, the enjex looking more like used oil sprinkled in fuchsia light and his internal chronometer clicking, clacking, counting just another cycle before curfew.

 

“Breakbeat?” Vaporwave almost shouted in protest, “She’s an old bot, leave her out of your mess!”

 

“Look,” Nightcore frowned, “I don’t think she cares enough about whatever happens to her anymore. It’s a miracle she hasn’t tried to kill anyone, yet. And _you_ don’t care either, otherwise you wouldn’t have come here willy-nilly here with _me_.”

 

He sipped, the stern look made his bright red optics feel almost menacing, “You know who I am. You know what I do. You wanna be one of the cops? Make a call and make them arrest me, I’m already used to being handcuffed anyway.”

 

The usual naughty smirk parted the orange and black bot’s lips.

 

Vaporwave felt the crippling heat of shame, again. Paranoia always held him at bay, and the cops weren’t even a fear he harboured; he was more terrified of being picked up and scrapped altogether for not abiding to the rules. Everything around them could be the reason to get put down, to get scrapped. He curled his fingers around the enjex cube, staring down to the liquid in silent embarrassment.

 

“Besides, at least let me get drunk first. Then we can discuss cops and handcuffs.”

 

He heard Nightcore scoffing, but when the teal and pink bot looked up, the other’s expression had softened, and the smile on his faceplate accompanied his words, as one of Nightcore’s hands appeared over one of his.

 

“I—I didn’t mean to sound vicious. I just—”

 

“You worry, love, I know. It’s cute and all, but sometimes you have to make the best out of what you’re given in life.”

 

At that, Vaporwave couldn’t bear the look anymore, his faceplate decisely warm enough to be felt, and decided to gulp down more than half of his cube, as the slimy texture of the drink rolled down his intake and throat. Maybe he should stop questioning Nightcore, he pondered, but his protective protocols kept flaring up every time something _illegal_ came out from the other’s mouth. It drove him hysterical.

 

He tried to calm his mind down, by just let it wonder again on its own accord but the only memo that would pop up was that, in fact, he was also partaking into illegal activity. It didn’t help at all.

 

The table was suddenly shaken by Nightcore’s fist bumping onto its solid structure, and Vaporwave jolted straight.

 

“I’m here, sweetspark! I’m here!”

 

The pesky orange bot jumped up from his seat, a little bit tipsy already, waving towards an enormous construction frame, his brown and senape overtones reflected a dull light, as they were rugged up and covered in work dust. The bot seemed to shine at the sight of the waving minibot, though. He clumsily rushed towards the table, plucking Nightcore up like turbofoxes do with their pups, holding him up to get a dearly awaited peck on the cheek.

 

“Hey, missed you today.”

The big bot showed a timid smile, which seemed to clash with the roughed up state of his frame, His hands were gentle around Nightcore, as if he was holding a precious object of devotion, and the minibot himself seemed relaxed, spreading over the worker’s large chassis, with a sure hand sliding on his neck cables, confident optics gazing up to the other.

“Such a darling gentlebot you are.”

 

Vaporwave found himself staring and his immediate reaction was to put on a deep frown, almost nauseated at the dentae-rotting scene, returning his focus back grumpily to sip his enjex.

 

Rafter was a rather naive constructor bot Nightcore had met a few deca-cycles prior. He wasn’t the brightest of minds, but the way he had been enchanted by Nightcore was part of various gossips running in the dormitory. While having a round of circuit boosters in a club downtown, high on his pedes Nightcore fell right into the mech’s big arms, who had helped him out until he was sober enough to sneak back in, but the two had already started talking over private channels - something Vaporwave didn’t know Nightcore had modified before Rafter entered the picture, and that bothered him a lot. One of the things Nightcore seemed to have a hard time being quiet about was his newest toy-bot’s array, which only made Vaporwave sigh out his disinterest.

 

The only things Vaporwave kept wrapping his mind about was the miracle it had been. A miracle, that Rafter was one of the nice ones. His behaviour was meek, to which the rough and tough work-frame stereotype didn’t apply, but matching well with Nightcore’s dominant personality. Rafter treated his friend _well_ , he forced himself to objectively declare like a judge to a court, almost uncaring of the “disposable” carving on the side of Nightcore’s hip plate.

 

It felt nice, afterall, Vaporwave thought. It could have been worse. But at the same time, there was a petty sensation stalling in his tanks that didn’t sit quite right with him, seeing the two snuggled close together.

 

“You managed to bring your pretty friend, too?”

 

Rafter addressed Vaporwave with a nod, showing off his chipped dentae with a friendly smile.

 

“Oh, he’s feisty tonight.” Nightcore purred in the big mech’s audial, and one could _see_ Rafter’s plating shiver at that. Vaporwave made a rather annoyed face, curling up his nose. “He needs to loosen up, finding someone _big,_ ” the words sounded lewd, “ _strong_ like you, to get some fun.”

 

Rafter whined, moving his hands to hold his lover more comfortably, but the look behind his shiny red visor were fixed on Nightcore’s faceplate as if he could die for his mouth’s every movement. Vaporwave rolled his optics.

 

“Can you two take it somewhere else? I already had my fix of people fragging in front of me today.”

 

“Again?!” Rafter yelped, frowned in confusion and somewhat worry, as Nightcore patted his helm, hinting at the fact that it wasn’t such an uncommon happening for them, leaving the big bot even more confused and kind of sickened. He let down the minibot, who placed a hand on the back of his friend.

 

“I told you, it’s because you’re a cutie. You look inviting.”

 

Vaporwave looked up, meeting Nightcore’s gaze—and his smile, was ever so sweet. The comfort of that hand spread throughout his frame, a sensation of warmth, safety. Nightcore knew, he cared.

 

_Maybe, maybe_ , Vaporwave thought, _this is just how everyone feels things. This is what a sentient being is._ Injustice is laid down in front of them in plain sight, thus imagining something else, something more, something free wasn’t just a manic dream.

 

“One of them said I play good music, at least.” He grinned back in a sardonic tone, while gulping down the last drops of enjex left in his cube.

 

Nightcore’s soft smile grew wider.

\--

“You know, they're gonna cut some of the sites down.”

 

Rafter was getting sluggish as he spoke, the words tiredly escaping his mouth, as his big hand cupped Nightcore’s nape and rubbed it softly. The minibot was sitting on Rafter’s lap, checking a datapad he had been given by his partner.

 

“Why?”

 

Vaporwave asked, sitting across them, hand on his chin. He was actively trying to stay engaged but the engex was having an effect on him. He blinked, trying to focus.

 

“There's no money anymore. They keep cutting down on funds.” Rafter mumbled, rubbing the bridge of his nose, “It doesn't really change much for the higher ups, but so many of my buddies were laid off,” he paused, “Some of them started drinking a bit too much after losing their job…”

 

Rafter trailed off, the thought of it seemed to bother him quite a lot, a slight frown shadowed his faceplate. Vaporwave noticed Nightcore looking up, probably alerted by Rafter’s gentle caress moving away, his hand up to adjust his visor.

“Love, look.”

To an untrained viewer, Nightcore might have seemed lost in his thoughts, shuffling through the infonet with rather fervour, but he had been attentive enough to catch his mech’s worries. He held out the grey datapad with a smile.

Vaporwave squeezed his optics as if he could see right through the back of the tablet, while Rafter let out a chuckle.

“‘Serves well!”

The pad was presented on the table, slipping towards Vaporwave so he could see an article depicting a photo of a senator being thrown wrenches at during a speech.

“Wow.” He exhaled, touching the picture on the screen, the title reading _Nominus’s senators bashed by workers_. “Does the Prime even appear in public anymore?”

Nightcore shrugged, cupping another cube of enjex in his hand and sipping in.

“Nominus could be an elaborate conspiracy by the Senate for what I care. He’s useless.”

Vaporwave cringed, suddenly focused, throwing an eye around them just to meet the club’s patrons minding their businessー except for some bots shouting loudly at a came of cards, and others commenting with the barista on the ‘hottest frames’.

Nightcore kicked his pedes up on Rafter’s lap, his back effortlessly supported by the larger frame. Vaporwave mumbled something, as he put on a stern, yet clearly inebriated gaze, gulping down his second glass of high-grade.

\--

The sky at night was always a wonder, Vaporwave’s mind wobbled around the idea of just laying down in the garbage of Uraya’s streets and marvel himself at the pretty stars and the gentle gleam of the moons. His walk was unsteady, his chin up towards the darkness above him, while Nightcore huffed, steadying him on his pedes while being dragged along.

 

Rafter had accompanied them till he could without garnering unwanted attentions, and with a pained look, he told his lover goodnight and goodbye, kissing him on the lips. Nightcore not only missed Rafter, but he also missed his large, stern arms which made transporting a drunk Vaporwave extremely easy. At least he had convinced his friend to get back into his root mode once Rafter had put him down.

 

“Vapy.” He heard his friend call out with a tired voice. “You’re the only guy that can get wasted on two cubes of enjex. Come on, straighten up!”

 

Vaporwave drowsily moved his optics to meet the streets yet again. Less and less mechs were out wandering about as they moved closer and close to their dorm block. The colourful neon signs of bars and nightclubs were disappearing, melting away; only the grey of the pavement and the black of the sky seemed to be holding the two minibots together. Vaporwave felt the need to stare down at his pedes, fearing they could be swallowed by the dullness of his surroundings.

 

“What if—” He began with a slurred voice, while Nightcore diligently made him turn in a cramped alleyway, a hand firmly on his younger friend’s hip, “—the colours of my plating would just fade away?”

Nightcore rolled his optics, dragging both of them closer to a small opening carved into the wall of a building. Their surrounding now lightened up only by two bright yellow street lamps affixed on both sides of the narrow alley.

 

“Yes, sure, and what colour would you become then? Purple? Red?”

 

Vaporwave found himself trying to straighten himself up, while the orange mech crouched down to move aside the screen door covering a tiny entrance.

 

“Ouch!”

 

Apparently, he had failed miserably and fell on his aft with a thud, making Nightcore turn around with a slight frown.

 

“Vapy! Be quiet!”

 

His hand was grabbed the other, who pulled him in, into complete darkness.

 

“I hit my aft—”

 

“Whining like a newframe just for hurting your aft?”

 

Nightcore’s voice sounded more exasperated than angered, and somehow that made Vaporwave feel a bit uncomfortable, the embarrassment cutting through his intoxication. The narrow passage was perfect for their frame and size but it would be a nightmare for anyone else even a tad bigger. They had to crawl their way out, Nightcore pushing him to the front, as they began stumbling on all fours surrounded by black and the sound of their movements on the - presumably - thin aluminium-like metal surrounding them, their optics as their only source of light.

 

Then suddenly, Vaporwave’s helm hit the end of the cavity, and a grumble escaped his mouth.

 

“Ouch…”

 

Nightcore couldn’t even reprimand him, that the panel covering the exit snapped open and Vaporwave was dug out with force, falling on the ground once more.

 

A loud, irritated whisper welcomed him, matched with two angered pair of red optics staring at his inebriated, not-so-awake faceplate.

 

“Do you _know_ what time it is?”

 

Only then, Nightcore’s orange head popped out from the tunnel, rising a hand up, in a sort of awkward greeting.

 

“Hey Breaky!”

 

“ _Don’t_ ‘Breaky’ me.”

 

The older beige minibot stomped towards the sharp-tongue bot, seizing the back of his neck as if it had been a gesture she was used to do, pulling him out from the tunnel with a level of irritation that neither of the two youngsters were comfortable with. She dropped her hang on Nightcore, and the force had him stumble for two steps before falling next to his friend.

 

Breakbeat crouched down in front of the hole to pull back the metal plating that she had previously snapped off, knocking lightly on each side to make it stick and assure it wouldn’t stand out during inspections. The young bots both seemed stuck in place, as if waiting for Breakbeat to resume her lecture—then they regretted their decision immediately when she turned to face them.

 

Her stern features weren’t helping.

 

“I get why _you_ ,” Breakbeat moved forward to grab Nightcore again, this time by his arm, to pull him back on his pedes, “but to drag _him_ along with your absurd shenanigans?”

She pointed at Vaporwave, sitting with his optics squeezed in an attempt to not fall into recharge, his faceplate torned in a focused yet silly expression. She swiftly pushed the orange pest towards Vaporwave, signalling him to pick the drunk bot up and move with her. Nightcore opened his mouth to protest, but Breakbeat held out a hand in halt.

 

Sounds of distant voices started crackling from the old loudspeakers on the back of her head, and a single line started dancing to the voices’ tone on the small equaliser screen held proudly on Breakbeat’s chest. There were few models remaining like her.

 

The voices were of distant guards, probably five to ten klicks of walking from them. She took a finger to her nose ridge and mouthed a silent _sh_ , before nodding to her right, walking first and expecting the two to follow.

 

Vaporwave’s body seemed to have started a riot, as the stress of the night made him suddenly feel exhausted. Nightcore was struggling to keep both their weights up.

 

He just wanted to lay down and recharge.

 

Sweet, sweet recharge.

 

At some point Vaporwave noticed the ground was becoming too close to his faceplate to be safeーhe found himself on his knees, palms down, touching the shiny metal of the corridor’s floor. His fall didn’t exactly reverberate on the walls, but it was enough to make Breakbeat turn with her hands up to her chest, fingers arched and optics wide in enraged disbelief. Nightcore was above him, hands in mid-air. He looked more exasperated, and just mouthed _walk_. The bastard had let him fall! Vaporwave tried to steady himself again, grabbing onto Nightcore’s shoulders, shaking him a little.

 

His lips moved, _you afthole, that hurt!_

 

Nightcore moved his head slightly to the side to meet the other mech’s yellow optics, curling up his nose, _just walk, Vapy!_

 

Breakbeat snapped her fingers and actually spoke out loud.

 

“Focus.”

 

Vaporwave pouted, still slumping on Nightcore’s shoulder with a hand, as they moved forward towards the long, eerily lit grey corridors. Every now and then, a big black door stood in the middle of the walls like a sore eye, numbers chiselled in a plaque over each one, and on their right side a list was hanged, of what looked like serial numbers on display inside a screen emitting a green light.

 

They stopped in front of one labelled 499 and Breakbeat knocked lightly on the door. A small clack seemed to have made the green screen flicker, as if a quick electric jamming had happened, and one side of the automatic door slid partly open, moved out by two small hands. Breakbeat nodded to the two young bots, before looking over her shoulders and extending a protective arm to cover them as they entered the room. Vaporwave heard another clack behind his shoulders after they had safely headed inside the darker room, the door was shut closed behind them—and he was finally home. Or what his subroutines had catalogued as _home_. The slightly larger than average room was “home” to twenty other minibots like him, same frame, same disposition, disposables. They were supposed to recharge in shared cubicles, with two bunkberths accommodating four of them each - for a total amount of five different cubicles, two on each side of the and a larger one on the straight end of the room for the room’s “handlers”, each tiny section separated by short walls made for a sense of fake privacy. The handlers were usually older models or the ones that had high renting figures. They could have access to special treatments, sometimes, like walking freely inside the outside corridors and enter other rooms, but they were also responsible for the behaviour of everyone under their supervision.

 

Most minibots, at the time they had got back, were recharging already, but scattered across the darkness, optics, lights and datapads were popping up like neonflies. The air there, Vaporwave mused, it felt asphyxiating after being outside for so long. And yet somewhere deep down, his mind linked that dampened smell and engine rumbles to safety and warmth, a cramped room bestowed on him; the sounds of purring in heavy recharge cycles, giggles of bots sharing gossips or jokes, some old models singing to scared or restless newframes.

 

They were all like him. Miserable, but together.

 

Breakbeat finally able to speak at her normal volume, was kind enough not to shout her anger.

 

“You are in _so much_ troubles.” She pointed a finger at the orange and black minibot, “You’re really pushing your luck, Nightcore.”

 

“What are you gonna do, Breaky, spank me?” He let out a chuckle and had Breakbeat’s hand clasping at his jaw immediately, squishing his cheeks.

 

“Primus almighty saves your spark, you _wish_.”

 

“Breakbeat!” Vaporwave called her out, but as both Nightcore and Breakbeat’s optics moved to stare at him, his brain went cold, seemingly forgetting what he had planned to say with such verve. He felt his faceplate heat up, as he quickly moved his sight down to stare at the floor.

 

“Vaporwave, what’s your excuse?”

 

He squeezed his fists in embarrassment.

 

“Breaky, cut him some slack. Just get angry at me, it was my fault after all, alright? He did want to come home.”

 

Nightcore was released when Breakbeat broke her stare with the youngest of the two, a heavy sigh following her.

 

“You two are going to drive me crazy. I have no idea how Hardhouse dealt with you two so calmly.” She curled her fingers into fists, alongside her hipplates. She shook her head.

 

“Next time we’ll be more careful, okay?” Nightcore offered, his hands up in defense and scrap-eating grin on display.

 

“There will be no _next time_ , Nightcore.” She moved closer to Vaporwave, embracing his shoulders with one of her arms. She began asking him how he was feeling, before being cut off by Nightcore rolling his optics and saying a loud _whatever_.

 

“Sure, I love living in a rathole with no freedom of movement.”

 

“You have to _earn_ freedom of movement, you stupid sparkling.” She retorted, and her arm slid down Vaporwave’s back to straighten herself up and glare at the troublemaker. “Do you think Hardhouse became a handler because he snuck out at night and did circuit boosters on the side?”

 

“Oh yeah, sure and look where that got—”

 

Nightcore’s optics widened, as he stopped mid-sentence, realising whatever he was going to say wouldn’t further his cause, but maybe turn the whole thing for the worst. So, he shrugged and nodded towards Vaporwave. There was disappointment on Nightcore’s faceplate, but he couldn’t understand why. He wondered if he had done something wrong, his paranoia muttering all sort of outcomes in his audials, as his friend huffed and turned on his heels, leaving them there. He disappeared into the cubicles.

“I wish I could get what’s inside that dumb kid’s head.”

Breakbeat let out another, softer, sigh, patting Vaporwave’s back, before turning to look at him with a stern look,  “And don’t think you’re off the hook, young bot.”

She was serious and hard to get through, and Vaporwave didn’t know how old she actually was, but Breakbeat must have been around for when Nova was Prime and had started roaming the galaxy with his technoist agenda, that was for sure. Sometimes the way she took taken care of the youngest around her was almost maniacal, to the point of lashing out whenever kids were being way too careless, in fear of losing them. It seemed like she wanted to protect everyone, but it hadn’t been her given taskー until very recently, at least.

 

Before her, one of the handlers was Hardouse.

 

Hardhouse was kind, a cheerful mech of sort. Vaporwave remembered his lavender frame had grown greyer and darker, but still retained its gentle touch. He had never raised his voice to either him or Nightcore, but just a glimpse of disappointment in that blue glimmer in his optics was enough to make them apologise for whatever shenanigans they had been in.

 

He used to be Breakbeat’s conjunx endurae.

 

Except, he really wasn’t.

 

He was Breakbeat’s conjunx to their small community of sentient disposable screens. Of course they were, they also were one of the oldest couples anyone remembered. There was no doubt both of them were united, in spark and mind. But to the rest of the world, there was no meaning in their relationship. There were no documents, no higher class bot witnessing the ritus, nobody that harboured any concern for how they felt love, passion and care for each other.  

 

Hardhouse had been scrapped.

 

He was old, older than Breakbeat even, and his loudspeakers had started glitching. His memory sets were lagging, the storage for his music was ever so full, and he couldn’t learn any new songs. Hardhouse model was rendered obsolete a few deca-cycle ago.

 

Breakbeat was not notified, there was no reason to.

 

He had just disappeared, gone. Vaporwave remembered the way Breakbeat gave in at the news, as one of them had told her in the dormitory after a day of not knowing why her spark ached so much, the doubt of where her conjunx had gone to. He wasn’t able to work for long, anymore, she kept saying, and Vaporwave had the memory of her pacing in front of the door, waiting, expecting him to come back with a silly smile and an apology.

 

But her optics wide when someone else came in with the news. Her hands went to faceplate as if she had to scream, and then

 

She fainted.

 

She had to go back to her tasks the next mega-cycle, like nothing had happened. In silence, without anyone acknowledging her suffering. And when she was signalled as the new handler to replace Hardhouse, it hurt like a blade in the spark, it felt like mockery.

 

Breakbeat pushed Vaporwave towards the corridor among the cubicles.

 

“Go get some recharge, you don’t have much time left before the shifts begin.” The corner of her mouth twitched in a half smile.

 

Vaporwave had sobered up, at least he felt like he had, so his movements had become sluggish mostly because of tiredness. He scrambled in the cubicles, hitting the side of the entrance in his unit, cursing himself as he was probably going to have a dent or something the next morning, and somehow thanking the lack of any door to bump into as he stepped inside his unit.

 

His living space had two bunkberths and one table with a small stool and a lamp, independent from the main lights of the room. Since the cubicles had no individual rooves, turning that on in the night was always met with annoyed groans and someone shouting to frag off. Nothing else was there, except for one single poster next to his two unit-mates bunkberth, showing what could have been a dance party of sort and the sign “Jumping isn’t a crime” in white letter blocks over it.

 

The poster hung to the wall in front of the entrance, and on his right, on the lower berth, a bot was calmly reading laying down, his back propped up by the wall, and the datapad held straight up by his thighs. His red optics ignored Vaporwave, being fixated on the screen, which flickered every now and then, showing off the hints of green on the bot’s frame. Above the reader, another one was in deep recharge, his violet body sprawled across the berth, with the edge ever so close to making him fall miserably on the floor.

 

The newframe assigned under his own spot pretended to be recharging. Vaporwave knew his tricks, rolling his optics with a huff, as he moved to climb up, feeling relieved when his frame laid down after pulling out the cord from the metal side of the berth and plugging it in, in his neck port.

 

Suddenly, a pair of wide blue optics appeared in his field of view, a curious expression pictured on the kid’s faceplate. His cutesy design was cheerful and almostー cuddly, with two round yellow shapes over his helm. Vaporwave slightly frowned towards him, but it was also out of frustration. He just wanted to recharge in peace, but the sparkling’s curious optics were still above him, now probably even more determined.

 

“Hey,” a small, chipper whisper addressed him, while the newframe’s hand lightly patted his shoulder, “Hey, Vaporwave, I wanna know. How’s the outside?”

 

Vaporwave groaned, passing a hand over his faceplate. That sparkling had kept pestering him at any given moment of the night, _every single_ night, since he had been moved there a vorn earlier. He was this naive thing, who had been given out for rental only to certified, safe customers for now, to train him on how to properly work without slip ups, or talking, since that seemed a concept he still had a hard time grasping.

 

“Is it cool?” The bot continued, moving closer, “Are there a bunch of bots all together, like in the stories Bitpop reads me?”

 

Vaporwave heard a distinct chuckle coming from the other bunkberth, but quickly reverted his attention back to the youngster.

 

“Mallsoft—”

 

“And is it true you drank engex?”

 

Vaporwave swore to Primus he had never heard someone being so eager to know if he was wasted. “That’s how you get drunk, right?”

 

Mallsoft’s light blue and pastel yellow hues shone under Vaporwave’s tired gleam, his mouth parted in an expecting, excited grin.

 

“Please, go recharge.” Vaporwave exhaled, waving his hand to the kid’s general direction and turning his back to him. Mallsoft stare still held onto the older bot’s back, and Vaporwave was sure he was pouting.

 

He couldn’t stand sparklings, they never shut up and never seemed to _rest_ for some reason. Even without being as old as Breakbeat, that naive part of his life was long gone and now it just irritated him. A huff escaped his mouth, when Mallsoft bumped his arm with his gentle blue hand in disappointment.

 

“You never tell me anything of the outside! I wanna know!”

 

The chuckle from before came back, but this time it was accompanied with a _kid, let him be_.

 

Vaporwave couldn’t stay online after that. He felt tiredness embracing him, as if he was slowly sliding into thick oil, his limbs going numb. Mallsoft’s voice seemed distant and warped, the sound of the little newframe stomping down the bunkberth’s ladder— was it really that? Or maybe it was someone knocking on the wall on the other cubicle? Maybe, was it Nightcore?

 

Was he angry?

 

Was he angry at _him_?

 

_Next time, next time_ , Vaporwave thought, _next time we’ll be more careful. All is going to be fine._

 

He had a flux of images during the night, of bots coming out from the videos he had been downloading. They looked like him, all of them, in an uncanny way, and they were all sitting in a terrace looking over Iacon, but it was also Uraya, with its view to the Sea of Rust he loved so much. The bots were laughing and having fun, with no fear. Everyone was warm and happy, while the sunset weaved them goodbye, painting the sky in oranges and pale blues.

 

In the dream, he held Nightcore’s hand, firm, real. He let out a laughter, and it got lost in the wind.

 

 

\--

**CHARACTER SHEETS**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. MIST RISES II

 

Hands being slammed on his berth startled Vaporwave awake, and he curled his fingers into a fist as a first response to the rude coming back online. The bright light of the day descending from the glass ceiling suddenly made him dizzy, his optics shut close once more to ease the pain.

 

“Wakey, wakey!”

 

A raspy voice reached his audials and Vaporwave shuffled in his berth, letting out a deep sigh, then turned around from facing the wall with a slow, plodding movement.

 

“Jumpstyle, do you _mind_?”

 

A wide, spiteful grin met him, bright yellow optics shining above it. One of the annoying crimson hands that had previously bothered him moved briefly to grasp one of the poles to the side of Vaporwave’s bunkberth.

 

“Why, of course I don’t.”

 

Jumpstyle shrugged, wide grin still fiercely on display on his faceplate, before leaving the bed alone with too much violence for Vaporwave’s taste, seeing how it shook a bit when he released the hold. He slid out of the gap of their living space, Jumpstyle’s voice echoing with a loud greeting in the corridor towards some other mech.

 

Vaporwave grunted as he slumped a little on himself, sitting up. The bustling of life in the room was slowly building up, more and more of the minibots coming back online. His gaze moved over the cubicles from his elevated position on the double bunk berth before getting down.

 

Under him, Mallsoft was nowhere to be seen. The berth was empty.

 

“Has he gone already?”

 

The question held into the air while he faced from Mallsoft’s berth to the other bunk. The last one of his roommates was still laying on his berth, datapad at hand, skimming through it, the light of his red optics mixed with the soft blue emanating from the device. The bot’s face was way too close to the datapad for what a medic would consider “healthy”, or even “safe” for reading and at that point Vaporwave wondered if Bitpop even cared anymore of his decaying eyesight.

 

“He hasn’t even come back yesterday. It’s not like he speaks much these days, so I don’t suppose there’s a difference.”

 

Vaporwave grimaced at that, glancing down for a moment. He had been worrying over Mallsoft for the past couple of mega-cycles, seeing how his behaviour had been morphing into something apathetic and meek over the passing vorns. His processor clicked fully only and he returned from his musings, nodding towards the light green mech still staring intently at the datapad.

 

“’Pop, what are you reading?”

 

Finally, that interjection managed to turn Bitpop’s attention away from the book, and their optics met— but Vaporwave wasn’t sure how much the other could make out from that distance anymore, his optics squinted in a focused expression.

 

“It’s truly something interesting. It broadens your mind.”

 

Vaporwave checked his internal chronometer to confirm he was still on time to entertain some friendly conversation without any repercussions and nodded along.

 

“Sure.” He leaned on the bunkberth, a hand on his hip, “What _is_ it, though?”

 

“Nightcore is passing it around, I’m surprised he hasn’t told you about it.”  Bitpop’s optics widened a little in surprise and Vaporwave frowned at the remark. “It’s called _Towards Peace._ It’s written by a miner from Tarn or something.”

 

“A miner?” Vaporwave couldn’t stop a mocking smirk from forming on his faceplate, “ _Writing_?”

 

“I know! It’s like you and me being medics or somet—”

 

“Bitpop!”

 

They were interrupted by another minibot from a different unit, barging into their living space with an irritated groan, roughly pulling the green bot up, “You’re late, you fragger!”

 

Bitpop quickly hid the datapad in his subspace, before whining softly at the other bot.

 

“But Nu—”

 

“No buts!”

 

“I don’t wanna go, I hate flight frames. They’re nasty with us.”

 

“Well, do you have a choice?” The other minibot remarked, slapping the back of Bitpop’s head to scold him. The two left, with Bitpop still trying to sneak away from his duties all the way to the main door.

 

The book though, that had stuck in Vaporwave’s mind.

 

A miner, writing?

 

A miner, writing.

The thought seemed surreal, and yet a tingling sensation crept behind his neck cabling, down his spinal strut. Excitement. Some random lower class one day decided to pick up a datapad and _write_ , and not some incoherent babbling, but a piece people around him were sharing, commenting, hiding. Vaporwave’s pedes moved on their own accord, shuffling towards Nightcore’s cubicle to the far east of the roomー his spark kept pounding in his chassis like a hammer.

Appearing on the entrance of the unit, he spotted Nightcore polishing his frame with a damp cloth in front of a mirror his friend (presumably him, at least) had snuck in from the outside, held in place on the empty space of the wall right in front of Vaporwave. Another bot chirped a friendly hi to him, and Vaporwave nodded back when she made her way out of the living space, leaving just the two of them.

Nightcore’s serious face grew a smirk as the teal and light pink minibot appeared in the mirror’s reflection.

“Is it visiting cycle already?”

A chuckle escaped him, as he swiftly subspaced the cloth and faced Vaporwave.

“You haven’t picked up my calls in a couple of mega-cycles, I can’t believe I actually found you here.”

Nightcore seemed to be genuinely surprised at that, waltzing towards his friend.

“I’ve been busy, dear.” He placed both hands on Vaporwave’s cheeks, pressing his fingers on the side of his helm, giving him a sweet smile, “I’m sorry, okay?”

And suddenly Vaporwave felt charmed, enchanted by him and hated himself for allowing Nightcore to play him like that. One thing he had come to be _sure_ about was that his friend wasn’t a bad mech, whatever broad definition he might apply to such word. Nightcore hadn't been put out there in the world to do Vaporwave any harm; Nightcore's real purpose was to taste freedom, acting out his warped view of what such a concept meant to him for many, many vorns now. But one thing NIfhtcore's predispositions lacked was dependency, and Vaporwave had taken notice of that. A vague sensation had started to travel his mind, of Nightcore taking him for grantedー the quiet, diligent bot, the rather high in the rental list for doing his job with no accidents mech, Vaporwave wouldn’t protest _him_.

“I’m not letting this slide.”

Vaporwave scoffed, while Nightcore wrapped his arms around him, the warmth of his frame seeping into the pink bot like a caress, too kind, too sweet for him not to unfold his arms to hug his friend back.

“Of course you aren’t.” Nightcore giggled, pinching Vaporwave’s cheek, “But I had mine and Rafter’s anniversary yesterday soー”

“Was it yesterday? Already?”

Vaporwave made a confused face, while Nightcore kept his smile on and let go of him, one hand resting on his hip.

“Are you losing track of time?”

“How many?”

“A hundred vorn, one more, one less. I even forgot when I started counting to be honest.” Nightcore had nodded towards the corridor and they walked out, “You know I’m not that type of guy. It was Rafter’s idea.” He shrugged, “The counting I mean. I don’t do _anniversaries_.”

Vaporwave let out a chuckle, and then smirked at him.

“Oh, sure, your spark is as cold as liquid nitrogen, am I right?”

Nightcore kept his optics focused in front of himself, but a seemingly innocent grin parted his lips.

“I can open my legs for everyone, but not my spark.”

Vaporwave's faceplate turned in a grimace, another suffering chuckle escaping him as he regretted ever bringing the topic up. “Disgusting.” he retorted.

“Oh, love.” Nightcore side-eyed him, “Don’t tell Rafter I said that.”

They arrived at the front door, Breakbeat directing out all the minibots close by in a neat line. On her side stood the other handler, Newrave, a young mech who had rose to prominence a couple of vorns earlier for his fierce beauty and strong personality, having him as one of the top rented screens of the firm. His blue optics moved on every mech passing through the door, a cold aura surrounding him.

“Morning, lady.”

Nightcore grinned to Breakbeat, who shook her head in response.  “What do you have in mind, pest?”she inquired with a wary voice.

“Who, me?”

His black hand up to his chassis, a feigned shocked expression contouring his faceplate.

“Nothing, we’re just going to attend a party full of Senators.”

“You better stay out of trouble.”

Newrave’s rather abrasive tone had Nightcore turn to face him like a challenge had been uttered, exchanging looks. Breakbeat moved a hand half assedly with the idea of shooing both of them out of the room to allow others to pass, but Nightcore couldn’t let the chance to push his luck slip by like thatー and Vaporwave truly, truly wanted to snap some sense into him. The orange minibot extended a hand and placed it right on the young mech’s screen, an intimate gesture, now used for a show of boldness. All of them were expected to keep their screen polished and clean all the time, afterall.

“Loving the system, I see.”

“Core, let’s go.”

Vaporwave grabbed him under his arm, going for the outside but Nightcore’s wrist was seized with force by Newrave’s white hand. His cold stare could pierce through metal, the pink bot shook at the thought.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Nightcore of Kalis.”

“I love how you took the time to learn my full name. Such a good Senate boy, aren’t you?”

Breakbeat suddenly stomped between them, breaking the two apart and lightly pushing Newrave away. She turned to bark at her proteges, “Go. Right now.” and Vaporwave took that chance to dash out, while holding onto Nightcore.

“Are you _insane_?” He shook his friend in anger, having the worst scenarios creeping in his processor already, “Why did you have to pick a fight with a handler, of all people?!”

“I’ve been reading.”

Nightcore’s optics shone for a moment, and Vaporwave remembered.

The book.

“Is that… what was its name, _Towards Peace_?” They kept walking, cameras above their heads to peer into each of their movements, and at that name Nightcore seemed to stiffen up, his arm clasping Vaporwave’s shoulders and accelerating their pace.

“Not here, Vapy.” He said quietly, his gaze on the lookout as if he wasー scared. Then, he faced his friend with a weird gleam in his optics, and an excited, wide smirk appeared. “But I’ll tell you, alright. I’ll tell you.”

Vaporwave was unsettled, and yet his curiosity overcame the paranoia, keeping close to Nightcore, while they moved towards their collection point. They held hands, walking to the front part of the building near the entrance, observed by bigger frames, most of them in red and black paintjobs, who  appointed to guard and position the disposables so they would be ready for pickup by the delivery bots.

“For now, enjoy the party.”

Nightcore let Vaporwave’s hand go, as they stopped in a straight line of other screen-bots like them. They transformed into their alt-mode, and were lifted up by the black hands of the guards and then neatly placed in metal boxes. His friend was placed further away from him, at the far right of the box, while two other minibots divided them.

One of them was Mallsoft.

\--

The hall they were in was swarming with higher castes, their polished and beautiful armours mixing as they moved around, some standing next to the bouffet, some joining chit-chats with other prominent figures of Cybertronian society at the centre of the room.

Iacon’s tall, golden buildings in the distance were framed by the huge door leading onto the terrace, and all the bots walking outside basked in the orange tones of the setting sun.

In a corner, next to a wall-sized mural depicting the birth of Prima, Vaporwave stood, his optics low and tired, as sweet, classical tunes escaped his loudspeakers. He hated it, but Senators were expecting traditional Cybertronian music to accompany their parties, so he had to download a packet from one of the old frames at his dormitory just for the occasion.

At first, he had been shocked to see senators that up close, being the first time he had seen bots from the ruling class walking so close to him, but they would linger just for a moment, enough to assert him that he was a nice decoration, treated like a prop. Some had stopped by, tall, imposing mechs, a cube of refined energon in their hands, asserting comments on his frame.

_Maybe I could get one myself._

_This one is a pretty cute model._

The statements used to wash over him like oil, but a tingling displease coming from his tanks had started to boil up. His mind circled back to the miner who wrote.

_I have an older model, I should scrap that. It’s getting useless._

For a moment, he dared to look up to the imposing frames ruling his world, his optics focused in a frown. His mind was shouting to stop, to revert his glare to the floor. _Don’t look, don’t look, you’re gonna die_. His helm lifted up, two jet frames in front of him with shiny colours were talking about prices and where to buy screens.

Where to buy _them_.

It suddenly became sickening, his tanks churning as he nervously clasped his hands into fists. It had never bothered him, in his whole functioning, but a vicious voice was whispering in his audials that there was something fishy, something wrong happening around him.

The two high castes saw him staring up, with his hands curled into fists, and a light discomfort appeared on their faceplates.

“Is it glaring at us?”

Vaporwave released his fists, conscious of his defenselessness. What would he even do, if the senators saw him misbehaving? He was no fighter but he wasn't even able to flee, his alt-mode utterly useless. He would become a piece of junk somewhere, to atone for his misdeeds, his dare to impose his existence. His optics dropped to the floor once again, where they belonged.

“I think this one might be glitched.”

One of them said in a rather concerned tone, as if they’d worry about some expensive tech being damaged, before leaving him. His helm tilted up once again, only to see Mallsoft standing on the other side of the room, his arms straight along his hips, faceplates pointing slightly down; one grey painted hand was stroking his shoulders, the mech attached to it busy speaking with two other senators.

And Mallsoft stood there, lifeless, his optics barely casting their usual bright light. His expression was still dignified and serious, retaining a youthful look in its features even amongst the clear discomfort, his plating shining in all its beauty. But the strokes the mech was brushing on the younger bot were making Vaporwave’s armour rattle in disgust. A vile touch, almost tasting him, lolling in the knowledge Mallsoft could only bow his helm in silence and let the hands drown him. The higher caste was very well aware that a higher caste couldn’t find troubles in that, renting one of the screen-bots for him meant the same as owning a buymech for a few nights. Mallsoft was so young and naive, too, and he had realised too late he could have called the firm and report abuse of property for all the times those hands roamed where they didn't belong.

Vaporwave witnessed the blue and yellow mech spiral into silence and rise into the ranks of best rented out screen, barely coming to the dorm to recharge anymore. The destiny that had  claimed Mallsoft’s function was a sad truth Vaporwave couldn't really excuse himself of. Discomfort rose at the thought, he could have done more. He could have taught him. 

But he had dismissed Mallsoft until there was nothing to be done anymore.

“That’s preposterous!”

One voice came from his right, making Vaporwave turn his optics to checkー and so did the marry company around Mallsoft.

Nightcore stood on the other corner of the room, on Vaporwave’s same side, hands in fists, a nice, non-threatening smile showing on his faceplate, and an angered Senator in front of him. The music stopped, all of the minibots halted their performance at the same time.

Nightcore spoke.

“I was just suggesting another tune, my senator, to lighten up the mood.”

Vaporwave felt the colour drain from his own frame, cold condensation prickling up on the surface of his back. Fear. Fear shaping the expression morphing on his own faceplate.

“Silence.”  the only reply Nightcore received by the blue and violet senator. It came out as a stern order, without losing any composure. The whole scene was of no interest to many of the guests, as nothing of worth had actually happened. One of the mechs that were discussing in front of Vaporwave walked closer to the insulted Senator, adding _I think this batch of screens are all faulty_ , in a hush.

“As you wish, my senator.”

Nightcore spoke again, and the bots around him glared at his gentle smile, growing more ominous by the second. Vaporwave wished he could ran to him and slap his stupid orange helm into sanity again. The higher castes moved away, probably of the idea that getting upset over such a _squabble_ with a _disposable_ would be in poor taste, and indeed, silly. Or even calling it a squabble, per se, would give the whole thing too much credit.

Yet, Nightcore optics were up, towards the hall, straight in front of him. His crimson stare studying everyone, held on with a proud stance and that smile, slowly turning into his usual wide grin.

The spark in Vaporwave’s chassis was racing, as the light cast from the open doors of the terrace hit Nightcore’s frame, making his orange plate shine in a beautiful display of hues, so much so that Vaporwave found his head completely turned towards his friend, almost in a trance.

His gaze stuck on that mech, speaking to the senators, using to its advantage the pettiness of the high ranks and his low disposable status to defy any possible consequences for his actions.

Vaporwave’s faceplate flared up in admiration, his hands back into tight fists, while his optics moved once more, down, to stare to the ground.

\--

A tall, slender jeep spoke with great words about freedom, the path to the future, bright in front of them. They rose an arm towards the ceiling, anger escaping their mouthplate like venom spewing over the senate. Tear it down, tear it down, some of the mechs in the bar echoed the jeep’s words, as the chanting of workers, miners, lower classes gathered for hope, two fingers up in the shape of a V.

Vaporwave sat down at a table, leg slouching down from one of the seats, optics firm on the fervour of the small crowd.

“Decepticons, uh.”

He moved his gaze back to a datapad in front of him, the black screen reflecting his confused expression back at him.

“Vapy, this is what I've been dreaming about my whole functioning.”

Nightcore seemed excited, his hand roaming over his friend's arm and Vaporwave couldn't hold back from focusing on it, or at least his plating did.

The face of the orange mech lit up as he gently stroked the surface of the arm with small, soft caresses.

“Promise me you'll read it.”

Vaporwave subspaced the datapad, and looked up to the crimson optics.

“Alright.”

He nodded and Nightcore’s smile showed up again, the sweetest kind, the one he knew was only for him, before pointing at the crowd.

“I'm gonna be up there, soon. They need people more charismatic than a quote spewer!”

Vaporwave chuckled at that, “Of course you will, with your ego and all.” Nightcore curled up his nose in feigned offence.  

“Are you gonna lead a revolution, too?”

“Don't tempt me, pretty bot.”

He stood up, offering a hand to Vaporwave, who was following his every movement.

“Come, let's leave the politics aside for a moment. I wanna show you something naughty.”

Vaporwave took the suggestion without hesitation, the black hand around his held a strong grip, as he was pulled amongst shouting mechs and drunk workers. Nightcore waved at Rafter from far away, probably telling him something over their com-link, as the big bot, in the middle of an attempt at consoling a friend at the bar, smiled and placed his lipplates on his palm, sending Nightcore a kiss.

Vaporwave couldn't believe someone out there who would do something like that existed and he frowned. He shook his focus off Rafter, when Nightcore pushed a door in the back of the bar with apparently little to none surveillance.

“Pay no mind to the bastards fragging in here.”

Suddenly the room became dark, blue hues coming from under their pedes and Vaporwave was reached by sounds he was way too familiar with, but not  by his choice. Mechs moaning in pleasure, cords snapping, electric static and a smell of damp and condensation filled the air, while they walked along the corridor, various rooms with half closed, broken automatic doors stood to their sides.

Vaporwave’s yellow optics stood wide open as he instinctively grasped at the hand guiding him. Nightcore turned his back with a smile shining in blue. Vaporwave’s spark raced, every beat felt throughout his frame with a different excitement than the usual. An excitement he couldn't pinpoint. He felt an unusual moist forming on the back of his neck, as his faceplate grew warmer, and shame was rewiring his priorities.

They stopped in front of a door near the end of the corridor, and Nightcore peered into the room, banging on the metal to alert anyone inside. No response and he pried it open with a little struggle ー Vaporwave held out a hand to help when he realised what was going on, but his mind had become fuzzy and unfocused. Or better, it was trying to focus on something else.

He was dragged in, an angular rugged out sofa circled the room, while a carpet made of small aluminium pins was laid on the ground, welcoming him down when he was lightly pushed on it.

“Don't sit on the sofa, I don't want you to get dirty with transfluid or worse.”

Nightcore said with a cheeky tone, and Vaporwave knew he should have been disgusted, appalled. Where had he taken him? Why did this bar have a secret lounge for bots to have fragging sessions in? Why did Nightcore _know_ about that? (He knew why but the truth was still too bitter.) They had never been in this one, he thought. But everything was dimmed out, his focus on the orange bot standing in front of him. Everything about Nightcore was larger than his frame, than his class, than his life. Vaporwave’s internal temperature was rising so much he heard the click of his fans when they turned on, which startled him. That had only ever happened for overworking his processor during the day, but right now he wasn't even using his screen.

“You're my best friend, Vapy.”

Vaporwave blinked at the words, codling him and he grew expectant of something he didn't know, he had never experienced before. He managed a nod, slumping forward, chin on his hand, fingers covering his mouth to avoid any sillier expression.

Nightcore reached on the back of his helm, clicking out their removable loudspeaker and holding the long rectangle in his hands for a klik, before kneeling down in front of Vaporwave and placing it in front of him.

“I want you to listen, and see.”

He took Vaporwave’s hand and placed it on his own screen, at which Vaporwave retracted it with a jolt.

“Core…”

The gasp that escaped Vaporwave felt raspy in his intake.

“I've created something.”

For a moment the room was silent, drowning in a feverish atmosphere that made Vaporwave’s plating perk up. And then, out of the blue, distorted music washed over them. High pitched, almost screeching sounds, but distinct enough to be recognisable as the Senators voices from the party; many, diverse voices mixing one above the other trying to create a tune, remixed, clipped. The screen on Nightcore’s chest turned on, showing the senators glitching out, the same clip looping, the elite bot placing his palm in front of Nightcore to order silence.

If was weird.

In his spark, disappointment crept up but he mentally reprimanded himself for whatever his processor had tried to conjure out of this whole scene or-- whatever Nightcore could have asked him. Vaporwave’s shame peaked and he had to drop his stupid stare down, silently, to curse at the ground like a pitiful thing.

“You don't like it?”

Nightcore’s voice sounded genuinely… saddened while asking, the other’s frame shuffling to sit down on his heels, hands on his lap in an odd, remissive pose.

 _You stupid, useless minibot_ , Vaporwave shouted at himself, never wanting to witness such a defeated reaction from him, from his friend. How could he do that to Nightcore?

_Stupid. Stupid._

 “No, Core! This is amazing!”

Vaporwave straightened up, for once, he drew out his hand, cupping the other's faceplate in a soothing gesture. His yellow optics flickered with the warmth of his frame at the rare sight of such a quiet, dejected Nightore. Every inch of his reddish faceplate darkened, but his lips perked in a cute, little pout.

“ _You're_ amazing.”

The words escaped Vaporwave’s mouth without him realising it. Time stopped when he figured out what had just happened. His tanks churned in embarrassment and being offlined and started to sound more and more appealing. So _stupid_. So, so very _stupid_.

But Nightcore never failed him, a full-dentae smile blossomed on his lips in response.

“I know.”

Vaporwave tried to cool down from whatever had been happening with him. He didn't like it, it made him feel funny and odd, these reactions his body was giving out seemed like a betrayal, not fully under his control. Maybe, he feared, that’s what the higher ups used to divide them, to pull them apart from non disposables.

“But,” he tentatively began in an attempt to recover composure, passing a hand on his own face to clean it off from the condensation, he felt putrid in spark and mind, “that's illegal, Core.”

“I'm not sharing these, yet. It's for fun.” Nightcore shrugged.

“Be careful with what you do for fun, dummy.”

Nightcore’s arms wrapped around him, and Vaporwave was resigned to the feeling of disgust he harboured for himself, leaning into it with eagerness. It all felt wrong in his processor, red flags appearing everywhere for weird thought pathways, and yet, these touches from _him_ … had him melting under them, comforted, safe. Loved. Vaporwave flared up when Nightcore rested his chin on his shoulder.

“Of course.” he heard his friend whisper with an amused grin.

\--

It only took him a couple of mega-cycles to read the miner’s words, skimming through it like a thirsty bot, filled with the hope he had heard of at the bar. All his doubts, all his questions, they laid bare on those pages, ready to be welcomed in his processor like well deserved nourishment. Vaporwave’s mind raced at the knowledge that someone had written what he had secretly been harvesting in silence for vorns, in silence.

_If you could step outside the system you would recognise it for what it is: a prison._

It roared in his spark like an immortal truth. The shackles at their pedes, grounding them to such label, disposables, had been cursed upon them not by an unmerciful god, but by cybertronians just like them, who thought themselves to be superior.

His hands shook so hard he had to wrap them around himself, leaving the datapad to cast its light towards the night sky of the ceiling, curled up in his own berth. Vaporwave, for the first time, felt trapped. Trapped in his own body.

The miner’s words had his tanks contract, almost painfully. The paranoia, rising high and mighty, with its hand on his helm, whispering, _how can you trust such a fool? How can you be sure he’s not speaking falsehoods?_

 _Because,_ he quickly shut his optics, trying to keep the coolant away from dropping down his cheeks, _we are all being deceived._

The image of all his friends, all the bots he had been living with, all of them under the blanket of ignorance, believing Primus had put them on that planet to serve and be abused by others. Laws segregating them for millennia, functionism enslaving them to the point many of the screens he daily met were convinced there was no sentient thought in their processor, their frames props, their lives out to serve obediently. Vaporwave’s replays focused on one of Breakbeat scowlings, many, many vorns ago, pointing at him and Nightcore with a scolding voice,

_Be quiet, keep it to yourself, do what you were made for. Survive, not for me, for yourself._

She spoke with knowledge and pain, be quiet! Be quiet! The replay echoed, hushing his disorderly thoughts. But, how could Vaporwave continue his functioning as if he was unaware of the system, now? Pretending to be fulfilled in a prison of lies and dehumanisation, picturing every disposable beaten up, violated and insulted without means of defense. Every disposable who was simply thrown away, as if they had an expiration date and no self-awareness.

His fingers traced the mark on his hip plate, sealing his forced seclusion to such category.

Sobs unfolded quietly and composedly.

_What could he do?_

A tiny, harmless screen like him. What could he possibly achieve, he wondered, anxiety brushing over his whole frame, rattling under the terror of knowledge. He felt utterly useless. Somehow, in the recess of his processor, he truly wanted to go back being a newframe, accepting the world as it wasー nodding along the lies like a good little servant of the Senate.

Vaporwave reached for his chassis, his hand sprawled over his aching spark. He popped open his arm panel, the screen of his messages dimmed in the dark room, clicking on his exchange with Nightcore.

 _I understand_ , he wrote, wary of his every word, wary they could be spying on them already, and the news of the Decepticon movement would breach out of bars and lower streets.

_I understand, I am afraid._

Nigthcore’s reply appeared in a couple of klicks, and Vaporwave hid his faceplate in his hand, the coolant running down one of his cheeks.

_Don’t be, Vapy. We’re together. We are strong._

He turned off the datapad, hiding it in his subspace, and another message arrived, silent and ominous.

_Soon, I will talk._

\--

“So you read.”

Bitpop’s quiet voice came inquisitive to Vaporwave’s audials, standing in line to refuel in the cramped space someone would dare calling a cafeteria. It reeked, he had soon noted. Vaporwave had been perceiving his surroundings as a constant reminder: the higher ups' optics were watching and these worthless mechs weren’t supposed to know about the system.

Disposables weren’t supposed to _know_.

The green minibot showed up next to him, his stoic face almost reassuring to Vaporwave’s tired processor, and he hinted a nod as a reply to Bitpop’s affirmation, staring at the back of the mech in line in front of him as if feigning indifference. Bitpop squeezed his optics, trying to stop the blurring out of colours and shapes, before sighing in resignment and dropping his gaze.

“I heard you crying, the other night.”

Vaporwave kept silent, his gaze never leaving the spot they had fallen on in front of him. Bitpop scooted closer, as the whole line moved two steps forward like neat little drones. It felt sickeningー the jailers looking down on them, tiny beings feeding on miserable energon, believing them as below, almost like mechanimals.

“It’s okay, Vapy.” Bitpop whispered, “I cried too.” he admitted a moment later, but that only made him scrunch up his faceplate in a concerned expression, as his optics fell to the side, “But _that_ only made Jumpstyle angry. He always is, but this time he really wanted to tear down the Senate, which isn’t exactly an easily manageable mood.”

At that, Vaporwave couldn’t keep in a sardonic smirk, finally facing his roommate.

“That’s funny.”

“It’s not, Vapy,” somehow the kind of worried tone and squeezed in optics of the green mech didn’t convince Vaporwave’s mind as an actually serious matter, “he brought a steel pipe in.”

And thus, Vaporwave snorted, placing a hand on his mouth.

“Don’t laugh.”

Bitpop kept his voice even, neutral, but there was a tinge of tiredness in the way he dragged his words.

“When you’re done here, come join us.”

Vaporwave followed Bitpop’s beeline to a small table where his cubicle mates were refueling, perking up at the sight of Mallsoft actually sitting down with them. The younger bot seemed distant, his gaze lost somewhere on the grey of the table as he sipped his cube, while Jumpstyle loudly welcomed Bitpop back with a big grin and an open arm, patting down the seat next to him with his other hand; Bitpop quietly hushed him, but he didn’t seem to mind Jumpstyle's hand lingering on his back as he sat down where he was offered to.

Vaporwave was held in line for a little while longer, until he finally received his half cube of low-grade and nervously walked to the table. Jumpstyle promptly looked over to him with a frown, curling up his nose ridge and growling out a single _yo_. Mallsoft's optics shot up for a brief moment, his unperturbed face twitched just a little, a hint of a persistent nervousness. The pink mech plopped down on the seat in front of Bitpop and Jumpstyle, Mallsoft resting on the ones to his sides.

“I don’t even feel like refuelling.”

Vaporwave rubbed his optics with two fingers, hearing a mocking sneer coming from the purple roommate on his right.

“Well, you must.” Bitpop asserted drily, his face twisted in a small grimace as he was trying to focus his sight again, “We have to preserve our energies.”

Jumpstyle’s fist banged on the table, cutting the palpable tension with his usual crudeness ー Mallsoft flinched visibly, curling his fingers tighter against his almost empty cube. Jumpstyle opened his mouth like he was going to roar.

“Weー” Jumpstyle breathed in, but he was immediately hushed by Bitpop once more, placing a finger above his own lips, advising him to keep his voice low, a slight frown painted over his faceplates. The rowdy one huffed, annoyed at the situation more than to his bunkmate and resumed, this time his voice a low grumble.

“We’re gonna kick some afts.”

“That’s _your_ addition?”

Bitpop sighed in exasperation and Jumpstyle looked at him, seemingly a little uneasy, after his processor had probably thought his contribution would be a useful way to explain the situation to the newcomer. Vaporwave found Jumpstyle's apologetic gaze almost endearing, for as much as he could think of Jumpstyle _being_ endearing.

“Ok, ok, let me try again.”

He pleaded as his arms, sprawled over the table, recollected closer to his body and he looked straight into Vaporwave’s yellow optics.

“The _D-people_ ,” and Vaporwave heard Bitpop exhaling _really? D-People?_ under his breath, “you know who, they’re thinking of an uprising in various cities, you know. A mega-cycle from now.”

Vaporwave moved from Jumpstyle to Bitpop, who just lightly shook his head contemplating Jumpstyle, sinking lower over the table like he was trying to rile his energies up.

“Should I know who the _D-people_ are?”

“Decepticons.”

Mallsoft visibly cringed at the name while Bitpop spelt it out. Jumpstyle lightly pushed him by the shoulder, with an equally concerned yet surprised expression. The purple bot whined.

“Pop, _you_ told _me_ to be discreet.”

Bitpop stared directly in front of him, meeting Vaporwave’s gaze while his hand slowly moved Jumpstyle’s from his shoulder and placed it on the table, both of them resting like that.

“Vaporwave,” his crimson stare was ice cold, Vaporwave could feel it under his plating, “join in.”

“I have weapons, alright.” Jumpstyle chimed in, “Imagine! Walking out of here on our own accord, doing whatever the frag we want. Screw the higher ups.”, his fist bumped on the table again as if he was trying to cheer himself, “Screw the Senate.”

“And then what?”

Mallsoft’s meek, shaky voice reached them, making their helms turn.

“What do you mean ‘what’?” Jumpstyle growled, his chin up to face the youngest of them.

“What are we going to do?” The youngest scanned the table with anxiety apparent on his frame. “We’re disposables. We don’t _have_ weapons, actual weapons in us. We’re small,” his hands twitched, “anyone can pick us up andー and offline us, just like that.”

Vaporwave couldn’t stop himself from latching onto that paranoia. It was clear how weak they were in comparison to other mechs, just by size alone.

“If there’s an actual revolution… If everything ends,” Mallsoft paused as if he was standing on the edge of a cliff and had to decide whether to jump into the void or not, “what will become of us?”

Mallsoft looked up, “All of us?”

“You wanna stay here playing the little Senate pup, you do that. There’s a nice wide space on Newrave’s lap, if you’re interested.”

Jumpstyle straightened up to his full height, folding his arms and reclining on the back of his seat. The pride softened from his face when Bitpop casted a disappointed look towards him, before turning to Mallsoft again. Vaporwave had scooted closer to the blue bot, placing a hand on his shaking one, clenched against the cube.

“Hey, hey. Nobody knows what’s gonna happen, okay? We’llー” Vaporwave was met by the young bot’s lost optics, and his tanks twisted in a useless sense of guilt, “We’ll stick together, all of us. It’s going to be alright.”

Vaporwave knew he lied to Mallsoft; but the lie was so powerful his processor believed in it, too. _All will be good,_ he thought. _We will all be free, just like that._

“Nightcore didn’t tell me about the protests, but he said he would talk soon.”

Vaporwave said plainly, his faceplate turned towards Bitpop.

“I think he wants to lead us out.”

\--

The night was silent in the shared rooms, cubicles laid still in an unspoken fear as soon as the word made their rounds. Vaporwave was fidgeting in his berth, sitting up in the dark surrounded by the hiccups of Mallsoft’s exhausted engine coming from below him. At every anxiety ridden sigh he heard coming from the younger mech, he sensed his mind growing warier.

What will become of us, the question roaring inside his processor.

_Why did you lie to him?_

He asked himself, while holding his helm with both hands, resting it against his knees.

_Why did you have to lie to him?_

_It’s not a lie! It will be good! All will be fine!_

His optics roamed his cubicle, the lights coming from Jumpstyle and Bitpop huddled together caught his attention. Bitpop was whispering something unintelligible from that distance, resting half sitting, held up by the corner in which the wall met his own berth, and Jumpstyle had a softer gleam in his optics, seemingly falling into recharge by his side, an arm resting on the green bot’s lap. It made Vaporwave’s spark churn, twist like it was being pulled out from his chassis-- he wanted, he felt the need to be with Nightcore. He needed someone to reassure _him_ that everything was going to be good.

Vaporwave shivered, looking down at his own trembling hands, deciding to quietly drop down to the ground on his shaking frame, alerting the three other minibots. Words wanted to leave his mouth, but he would have purged right there and then if he had tried to part his lips. Then, he met Mallsoft’s gaze, as he was curled up in a corner of his berth. Expecting, demanding comfort.

A comfort Vaporwave could not provide to his younger bunkmate.

His optics twitched an he was fleeing from the cubicle like a thief, his spark racing yet again. He stumbled across the corridor, reaching the end of it with exhaustion riding his body.

Newrave was standing on the door of the larger quarters, white and red frame shining in the moons’ light, blue optics piercing through Vaporwave’s. The mech wasn’t any taller or sturdier than anyone else, he was just a minibot like all of them-- and yet, his stance, legs wider apart, back straight and chassis out, hands behind him in a tight pose reminisced Vaporwave of the military frames saluting the Prime.

Panic.

They _know,_ a voice shrieked in his processor.

 _They_ know, another stated in his spark.

Foolish Vaporwave, he cried at himself, standing up and running to find comfort in a friendly face. Foolish, weak. Newrave stepped towards him while the pink and teal bot froze in place, terrified.

 _They will know_ , words wanted to escape his mouth so badly, screams and rambles, _and when they do, they’ll tear your little body apart and you will be no more._

“What is your business out from your berth?”

Newrave’s voice made him shiver and he instinctively dropped his gaze, clenching his fist as he often did when his optics met a renter. He couldn’t reply, he felt a bitter energon aftertaste in mouth, while he couldn’t stop one of his hands from rising up to his faceplates to cover it in shame.

“State yourself, Vaporwave.”

“Oh, sorry dearest!”

Nightcore’s voice came hushedly but clearly from the darkness, crimson optics lighting it like a beacon. Vaporwave’s spark fluttered and he rose his helm. His friend’s black hand rested on Newrave’s shoulder, his smile shone with bright dentae, hit by Newrave’s blue light, his ice cold stare on him.

“I called my friend here.” he chimed. “He just forgot a datapad in my cubicle.”

Nightcore took a datapad from his subspace and handed it to Vaporwave, who stared back in dazed confusion, his hands still shaking.

 _They know_ , he wanted to shout, but Nightcore’s stare lingered for a moment too much in the attempt of calming him down, which made his plating tingle.

“You do know these are contraband.”

Newrave frowned, eyeing the datapad and then dropping Nightcore’s hand off his shoulder with an angered huff.

“Have you never broken the rules, hot bot?”

Nighctore’s hand traced the edge of Newrave’s screen, his other hand resting on his own hip plate-- until the higher ranking mech clasped him by both shoulders and smashed him on the wall with anger. Nightcore let out a shriek of pain as Vaporwave’s optics widened in terror, the datapad slipping from his hands onto the floor while the bang of metal on metal had been loud enough to wake some murmuring in the room.

“Mechs like you are the reason why Cybertron’s rotting.”

Vaporwave stood petrified when Nightcore onlined his optics again, a mocking grin drawn on his faceplates.

“Maybe it’s because of mechs like _you_.”

And with that, Newrave plunged a fist in Nightcore’s tanks, the knuckles of the white hand hit in the just below his screen, chipping the lower part, just a notch, but that had him gritting his teeth to avoid yelping in pain.

Nightcore cast a look towards Vaporwave, trying to push him to leave, but Vaporwave was stuck. Helpless. Panicking. It was his fault, like always. It was his fault. He made this happen. No, no, no!

_No!_

_No!_

_Please, please!_

“Stop it!”

Breakbeat rushed out of the main cubicle, breaking Newrave and Nightcore apart.

“What the hell are you two doing?”

Nightcore leant against the wall to keep his weight on his pedes, as he patted the back of the old minibot his stare never breaking away from Newrave’s, licking his lips as a challenge.

“Nothing, Breaky. The big boy wanted to play with me.”

Other minibots popped their heads up the walls or out from the slits of their cubicles, peering in, out of curiosity. Breakbeat turned towards Newrave’s offended expression.

“Sneaking out and contraband. That’s what I’ve--”

A slap hit the young bot’s face. Breakbeat’s optics were lit up like flames, even though her composed, stern faceplates didn’t betray her fury. She pointed at him.

“You better learn how to use your power in here.”

Newrave touched his bruised cheek, astonished, his gaze shifting from Breakbeat to Nightcore, who had stepped closer to Vaporwave, tenderly embracing him while petting his helm.

“Now, everyone,” Breakbeat said evenly, towards the whole room, “back to your bunks.” Then, she turned towards the younger handler, “You’re off duty now.” Newrave’s optics flinched.

The shivering mess Vaporwave had become held onto Nightcore like his life depended on it, his optics leaking as the stress of the situation slowly deflated in that warm, reassuring hold. He whined miserably.

“He chipped you!”

His friend gently hushed him as if nothing had happened, his arms around him only becoming tighter.

“It’s nothing, Vapy.”

As he held Vaporwave close, Breakbeat had pushed Newrave away, angrily admonishing him to go calm down in his berth, as she would keep up on guard duty for the night. Before going back to the post, Breakbeat moved her hands hurriedly to shoo the curious optics of the still lurking minibots back into their berths with loud _there’s nothing to see here, you busybodies_ , then turned around to move closer to her boys. Her hand roughly moved Nightcore off from the hug, with an angry and firm grip she turned him around to assert the injury on his little screen, and Vaporwave found himself holding onto his friend’s side, longing for the other’s body to be pressed against his, sweet reassuring words making the world fit in place.

“You’re lucky he didn’t aim straight to your chassis.” She huffed, slightly touching the chipped bit and making Nightcore wince. “You dumb kid.”

“The screens are sturdier than that.” he breathed out, the usual smile trying to creep from the sides of his mouth, while he angled himself better to get a view of Breakbeat’s angered faceplates staring back at him. She ignored Nightcore’s remark, turning towards Vaporwave to push his chin up with a finger in a rough motion, cleaning the tears away from his cheek with her thumb.

“Save your tears for harder days.”

Breakbeat was still frowning when Vaporwave’s optics dimmed in humiliation, his helm plopping down once it was released by her raspy hand. He had panicked in fear, like a guilty bot.

_So, now,_

_they know, they know._

His mind kept yelling while his processor tried to calm down, and one of his hands roamed to his audials, hoping music would start filling his thoughts, erasing all the terror, molding everything around him into a calm blankness. But Breakbeat spoke again, far, far away from Vaporwave to actually make her seem real.

“You two, too, back to your bunks. I don’t know what you’re up to, Nightcore--” Vaporwave was almost biting down on a finger of his other hand hovering his mouth and he could see them talking at the corner of his optics, “But I don’t need more troubles in my functioning.”

Nightcore tilted his head a little, a smaller, almost apologetic smile twitched on his face plates, and his black hand roamed to the base of Vaporwave’s neck, almost nonchalantly, while his gaze was still fixed on the older bot. He parted his lips to whisper one word that made Vaporwave’s energon lines freeze in place as panic resurged like a beast.

_Tomorrow._

\--

The sun hit their room like an ominous wake up call, as the noise of engines purring to life and groans of waking bots filled the air.

Vaporwave laid tense on his berth, staring up to the ceiling, his hands in tight fists. He heard Jumpstyle grunt down from his bunk.

“Pop, come on. Wakey wakey.”

It was a low, almost soft grumble, met by a meek moan when Bitpop tiredly rose back online. Vaporwave didn’t move, his helm in place, fixed, while unintelligible murmurs were exchanged between the two bots on his left, until Jumpstyle took a hold of his and Mallsoft’s bunk, shaking it a bit.

“Yo, show’s on soon.”

Mallsoft whimpered loudly and Vaporwave cringed. His frame felt cold, heavy, as he tried to sit up and his joints creaked with tension.

“Hey, hey.”

Vaporwave’s gaze shifted to see Jumpstyle crouching down on Mallsoft’s bunk, while Bitpop stood straight behind him, meeting Vaporwave’s optics.

“You’re gonna be fine, squirt. Just kick someone in the faceplate if they pick you up.” Jumpstyle’s voice was hoarse as always, but his tone leaned on a gentler note, attempting to lure out Mallsoft from his weeping spot, “Don’t transform if they do though, okay?”

Bitpop stepped closer to his friend, breaking the stare with Vaporwave, and he saw Mallsoft appear on his pedes, shaky and wary, with a green arm around his shoulders for support.

The purple minibot glanced up, towards him. His look and stance showed eagerness, ready for a fight he seemed to have been put aside for way too long, when his hand grabbed the edge of the berth with an annoyed puff of air out of his vents.

“Are you gonna come down anytime soon or do I have to push you down?”

“Jumpstyle.”

Bitpop’s voice rose over the other’s, and Vaporwave caught the frustrated frown that appeared on Jumpstyle’s faceplates, and he mumbled something under his breath before backing off, stomping towards the opening of their cubicles to peek out in the corridor.

Vaporwave sled down, Mallsoft’s optics shifted from the empty stare fixed on the floor to him, and they made him quiver.

“It’s happening soon.”

Bitpop’s voice was shaken, as he clenched the hand around Mallsoft’s shoulder tighter.

“I know.”

The voice that came out from his mouth was so distorted to him that he almost didn’t recognise it, his mind far away, somewhere hidden under music. Drowning, drowning somewhere safe. In his processor, the idea of revolution was needed, was the only choice; the only way to live. To _actually_ live. They were all mechs, they were all sentient, they were all alive.

There was no place for disposables in the new future. He curled his fingers in fists and stepped forward, passing past Jumpstyle, into the corridor-- cold condensation shining on the surface of his plating, faceplates appearing from the other cubicles. Faceplates of bots that _knew_.

Nightcore was on the other side of the room, near the main entrance. Cables were linked from the back of his helm to the mainframe of the panel, next to the door and the sight was terrifying and exciting at the same time. _Don’t worry_ , his lips spelt for Vaporwave, and he reached for the back of his neck, clicking off his loudspeakers and throwing them in the middle of the corridor with a loud thump that echoed in the waking room.

Distorted voices of senators, the ones Vaporwave had heard before, started playing so loudly that most minibots that had been in recharge still had to wake up at suck ruckus, and the ones that weren’t already prying out from their cubicles, now were smushed together to witness such an event.

“What’s the meaning of this?!”

Newrave shouted over the music and distorted voices, stomping out followed by the two other handlers and Breakbeat. She looked… confused. Vaporwave’s spark twisted in his chassis.

“Brothers and sisters!”

Nightcore’s voice was grand, like a blast surging from within one’s frame. It roared throughout the firm, throughout the other rooms. An alarm went off from outside their enclaves and Nightcore rose one fist to his chassis.

“Today we become free.”

Some bots yelped at the sounds coming from the outside, and the pink mech flinched at the clear scream of someone from beyond the main door.

“No more being subject to the will of others. We will be our own mechs.” Nightcore’s hand rose up, above his head, arm stretched and two fingers up. “Today,” he shouted, “We are disposables no more.”

Vaporwave closed his optics while Nightcore’s voice wrapped around him, sliding inside his audials.

_Decepticons, rise up._

The door broke open as if a bomb had just exploded behind it, and many of the minibots panicked, cries of the newframes, curses. Vaporwave heard Mallsoft yelp, holding onto Bitpop and Jumpstyle crossed the border of the cubicle to be next to Vaporwave, yelling back.

“Decepticons, rise up!”

His subspace revealed the steel pipe he had been harbouring for a while, showing it above his head. The dust settled from the explosion next to Nightcore, who didn’t even move a pede, when Rafter came barging in, scooping him up with a gentle gesture. The construction mech bumped his helm on the orange minibot, a big, gappy smile accompanied something he whispered in Nightcore’s audials, while he unplugged himself from the door’s mainframe.

Newrave’s face had turned dark while staring at Nightcore rising above all of them, from the massive height of his partner, and the other handlers’ panic was clear.

“My fellow friends,” he said, “do not trust this misguided mech. If you go, you’ll be taken and disassembled! Would you want to live your last moments as scrapyard junk?”

He started walking towards the bots flooding the corridor, moving them out of the way with angered gestures.

“Would you really want to trust someone like him? A circuit booster addict who--”, he was interrupted by Breakbeat bumping into him, rushing towards the minibots who had started gathering around Rafter. Other disposables were seen running free outside on the main corridor out of their room, black guards down on the floor or struggling to keep up with other construction mechs, some of which kept prying open the other still rooms.

Rafter moved his lover down, so he could hop off on the ground once more  to greet Vaporwave, who had hopped nearby. The two minibots held one another close in a quick embrace. One of the construction bot’s big hands patted Vaporwave’s helm reassuringly.

“Don’t worry, Vapy, we’ve got this scraphole under control.”

And Vaporwave hated that his panic had immediately subsided and retreated as soon as a large mech such as Rafter had appeared in the picture. He truly, truly hated it. His frame had never felt more comforted at the idea that someone that big was there to protect him, his joints relaxing and heat finally pervaded his whole body. But he gulped down his self-doubt and a small smirk appeared on his lips.

“You did it.”

Vaporwave handed Nightcore his loudspeaker back and he purred at him, while he clicked it back in place, “Not yet, my dear.”

“Move!”

Breakbeat’s voice broke among the minibots, moving to let her through. She slammed her hands on the orange bot’s shoulders, with an expression Vaporwave had never seen on her.

It resembled the pain she had shown for Hardhouse’s departure. Her usual composed demeanor was scattered, rambling out words.

“What-- What are you doing, Nightcore?!”

“Breakbeat, come with us.” Vaporwave suggested, placing a hand on her back, but her optics were hurt. Scared. Fixed on Nightcore’s flames, shining with a tinge of sadness.

“You can’t go. You two-- none of you can go!”

She looked around in a frenzy, until Nightcore’s hand pressed against her cheek plate and she looked back at him.

“Breaky,” he whispered among the ruckus of sounds and screams and broken surfaces, “I’m doing this for everyone. I’m doing this for you.”

He kissed her forehelm, and let the hands on his shoulders drop. Breakbeat’s optics cycled for a few klics, before realising that her kid was leaving, forever. There was no going back.

“You’re going to die!”

She pleaded with a broken voice, while other minibots rushing out of the door. Bitpop passed by, holding Mallsoft’s hand, and Jumpstyle stood a moment behind to assert whether or not the big mech and the other two bots were coming along, before shrugging and hopping behind his friend.

Breakbeat seized Nightcore and Vaporwave’s hands as soon as they moved a step towards their escape path.

“Please!”

She was crying, her voice shaken with grief. It hit Vaporwave like a fist to the faceplate, any composure gone in that severe figure; his body moved to embrace her with tenderness and longing for a past that could never come back now.

“Breakbeat, come with us!” He almost ordered, clinging to her, “Please.”

“Sweetspark, we oughta go. Right now.”

Vaporwave heard Rafter's low voice quietly murmur to Nightcore, and he knew the black hand pressing on his shoulder signified leaving Breakbeat there. She would not follow. She was not wired for such an escapade, they knew. A slow push back and he freed himself from the older bot, their optics unbreaking, while another tear left Breakbeat. Nightcore held Breakbeat’s gaze until he let a hand slid on her helm for the last time.

“Go hide, Breaky.”

Rafter picked the two minibots up, while Breakbeat shouted a _no_ , rushing behind the much larger mech stomping away, but she halted on the door’s border, her hands gripping on the broken frame, her fingers clinging on the metal while she looked at her two boys leaving.

 _Please_ , Vaporwave heard her voice still, broken and roughed by the panic, and he offlined his optics, trying to avoid the stress and pain to wash over him. Rafter barged out of the firm into the streets, as general chaos seemed to be swarming around, and he quickly transformed in his alt-mode, having both minibots climb up.

Vaporwave’s helm turned around, searching for his roomates, until he spotted Jumpstyle smashing his steel pipe on a tall blue mech that had grabbed him on the waist. The pipe crashed the visor covering his optics, and a screech erupted from his mouth, dropping Jumpstyle on the ground while energon was dripping profusely from the cuts on the faceplate. The bot slumped on his knees, hands hovering above the visor, and the purple minibot took the chance to smash the pipe again on the bot’s helm with way too much eagerness, until he fell down-- and Bitpop called for him from the shadows of a building, Mallsoft still looking as scared and anxious as ever.

Nightcore turned the volume of his voice up, trying to gather their attention, while Jumpstyle had halted his rampage against the much bigger cybertronian. Bitpop squinted towards Rafter’s alt, before getting dragged out by Mallsoft.

“More minibots incoming.”

Rafter announced, sensing their little pedes approaching, making Nightcore turn around to face them.

“Vaporwave!”

Bitpop realised it was his roommate when they were way too close, and Mallsoft was helped up by Nightcore, giving him a reassuring pat on the head.

“You guys alright?”

Vaporwave asked, holding out a hand to Bitpop, who gladly took it and got lift up to rest against Rafter’s cabin.

“Yes, we--” the green bot seemed overwhelmed, not knowing where to rest his tired out optics, while he kept opening and closing them like he was experiencing a glitch, “We were attacked by the police.”

He was abruptly interrupted by Jumpstyle grunting up next to him, smacking his hand on Rafter.

“Go!” He growled. “Get movin’ you big idiot!”

Bitpop flinched, and Vaporwave was sure he had scooted a little further from the other, still trying to focus himself. Mallsoft was held safely by Nightcore’s arm, when Rafter’s engine rumbled loudly, leaving behind the firm where they had been living their whole functioning. Police had flooded the place, and the whole group of minibots seemed to start harbouring doubts, dreading the change this will bring to their lives, permanently.

Vaporwave audials released a cable and he plugged it in at the bottom of his screen. Music flooded his mind, washing away his thoughts.

\--

The square was packed full of mechs of all types, mostly lower classes. Some disposables alts were there too, while the Decepticons gathered along the streets like a parade. Some were chanting, some wore purple over their plating, a symbol roughly drawn on the armour. The clamour was maddening, Vaporwave had never seen so many cybertronians grouped together. He could feel fear, palpable, over all of the screen bots, and the black hand holding his seemed stiffer than it had ever been in his whole functioning.

But Nightcore’s smile was bright.

“We’re out.”

He dropped Vaporwave’s hand, nonchalantly patting Rafter’s thigh as he turned to face the other three who had tagged along.

“Don’t you see?”

The light in Nightcore’s optics shone so brightly it was blinding even in the sunlight. His arms spread in front of his followers.

“All of these bots, all of them. They demand freedom and we’re seizing it.”

Mallsoft whimpered, taking a step back behind Bitpop, still clutching at his arm.

“This is scary.”

The young bot’s helm started shaking in disbelief, tightening his grip so much so that the green screen groan out in pain.

“Hey, hey.” Jumpstyle put a hand on Mallsoft’s wrist, but the kid’s faceplate was ridden with terror, and he lashed out with a sudden movement forward, like a threatened mechanimal.

“Don’t touch me!”

He shouted, tears rolling down his cheek plates and his big, shocked optics stopped on Nightcore.

“This is terrifying! What are we even supposed to do?!”

“Come, Mallsoft, calm down.” Bitpop raised his hands, “We’re gonna find a solution.”

“This is about _your_ ego!” The blue minibot pointed an accusatory finger towards Nightcore, whose smile quickly deflated, his chin rising up as he had been, indeed, offended. “You wanted to do something great to make yourself be seen!” The sudden insinuation of shadier motifs had Vaporwave frown. This sparkling didn’t understand what Nightcore had done, for them, all of them! _Selfish little bot_ , he viciously thought of the shaky blue youngster. He acted without thinking, stepping towards Mallsoft with an angered stance.

“Then you could have stayed!”

Vaporwave grabbed the young one’s helm, making their optics meet-- Mallsoft’s lost, scared, full of tears, “Nobody forced you to come. Be grateful for what he has given you.”

A sickly expression painted over Mallsoft’s faceplates, his brow ridge lowering in almost a confused, hurt scowl. His lips parted.

“For how long are you gonna lick wherever he steps?”

_Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid little minibot. Stupid sparkling, you know nothing, nothing. Nothing of what he is, nothing of what I feel. How dare you make assumptions, how dare you._

His fist clenched, flickers of anger running through his whole frame. Rafter picked Vaporwave up out of the blue, and the sudden shift in weight had his automatic response triggered, turning into his alt-mode.

“You two, settle down.”

Rafter awkwardly tried to state his mind, holding the pink and teal screen in his hands. Nightcore had opened his mouth to add something, when his words were cut short by the sound of gunshots.

Screams.

So many.

The swarm of people passing before them began trembling like a single body as the word _police_ echoed from mouth to mouth in a crescendo of hysteria. The minibots stared petrified at big mechs, double, triple their size, rushed towards them trying to hide from the Senate’s well trained dogs, invading the side of the road, stomping in a rampage.

“ _Run!_ ”

Nightcore yelled, and in the sudden movement Rafter dropped Vaporwave on the ground, the clash having him turn back into his root mode, but he couldn’t seem to move, and when his pedes rose to the run, it was because his friend had dragged him away. The swarm of people cut through them, and he could hear a desperate Jumpstyle crying out for Bitpop with a voice broken by confusion, trying to hold Mallsoft by the hand, much like Nightcore was doing with him.

The orange bot turned around and saw Rafter on the ground, padding his side with a hand. He yanked at Vaporwave, moving him back to go check on his partner. The hand was dropped, and Nightcore was on his knees cooing Rafter’s face into his hands. He was leaking energon after a gunshot and Vaporwave couldn’t think of anything else but turn around and stare at the panic around himself. His roommates were gone, lost in the commotion.

Rafter said something into Nightcore’s audial, while the police marched forward. He managed to stand up with a huff, while the orange minibot looked straight at Vaporwave and with a scattered voice he shouted over the frenzy.

“If something happens, go to Rafter’s flat! There’s people there!”

They tried to run, Rafter looking seriously in pain with every step, until another gunshot scraped them and Vaporwave found himself scooped up by the bigger mech. The construction worker turned around to gather his lover, shouting his name.

Vaporwave peeked from over Rafter’s shoulders when he stopped.

_Nightcore?_

Vaporwave’s optics went wild open, his mouth agape.

_Nightcore?_

He screamed, adding onto Rafter’s fruitless cries.

“Core! Nightcore!”

Rafter saw the police pointing at them, and he fled out of instinct, the space between him and where Nightcore had stood last becoming an insurmountable sea. _No_ , Vaporwave shouted, banging his hand on the bigger mech. Rafter was biting his lips, in pain, guilt shaking his body.

_No!_

He kept crying out, his pedes dangling from the mech holding him tight.

_No!_

_Nightcore!_

_Nightcore!_

They took a corner and there, Rafter transformed, keeping Vaporwave on the front of his cabin. He couldn’t stop weeping, his processor stuck on the last he had seen Nightcore, standing behind him.

He should have let Nightcore go first, like always. He should have been taken up by Rafter.

The gunshots never stopped, even when they had left the square, even when they were far enough to be back into the workers’ neighbourhood.

Rafter returned into his root mode as soon as they arrived in front of the building packed full of other mechs, probably other decepticon sympathisers or revolutionary-to-be, some already hurriedly marked with the decepticon insignia. The big mech was leaking energon still, falling onto his knees, while a medic-bot appeared from the crowd, rushing to his side.

Rafter took his hands to cover his faceplates and shouted his grief, his sobs filled the air as three other mech arrived to his aid, trying to make him stand up. He was rambling, repeating the name of his lover over and over, the betrayal of leaving him making his frame rattle.

And Vaporwave was there, standing.

Alone.

Staring down, empty. Dissociation.

His processor spun harshly when his spark twisted on itself and he had to bend over on the ground, as his intakes empieted on the dirt. He lost consciousness, the last memory he had was of two hands holding him up.

\--

An ash storm battered against the windows of the cramped, small flat, decorated with some gladiatorial posters here and there, a small screen and a berth. The only other room was an equally small wash rack that hadn’t been used in a while because of plumbing issues and so it was used to store things, like a canister of energon.

Weapons.

Vaporwave appeared curled down in the corner of the main room. Everything, for how tiny it could be for someone like Rafter, was still way too big for his small frame, used to live and share space with many others. The thought kept haunting him. He tiredly closed his optics, his body demanding recharge, and yet, as soon as the curtains were down, his memory files kept repeating in front of him-- Breakbeat having a heartfelt smile on her, Bitpop reading to Jumpstyle in the dim light of the evening, Mallsoft as a young sparkling, following him around the cubicles babbling about whatever new thing he had discovered.

Nightcore’s face in the dark, crimson optics gleaming at him. His warmth, his hold.

And he abruptly came back online once the screams started flooding his audials, the last image of his friend disappearing in the crowd. Vaporwave’s jaw clenched tightly, his arms wrapping around himself, helm heavy and strained.

_They will find me, kill me._

Rafter had been hiding him in his apartment complex for half a mega-cycle, alongside other refugees hiding from the police or in need of help and in the meanwhile, Vaporwave was wasting away in the dark, the big construction bot tried to recover the best he could from his wound, going out in search of information regarding his lost lover, hope never seeping out of such a positive mech.

But Vaporwave’s processor spun in constant panic, even when Rafter almost forced energon in him, trying to comfort him. _It was an accident_ , he would whisper, mustering the strength to keep in his sobs, _we had to leave him_. And Vaporwave couldn’t understand if those words were for him or Rafter was just reciting them to ease his own pain.

His frame felt feverish, hot at the touch, but a sharp slash of cold hit him every time he tried to crawl up on his pedes, like a dagger in his back, yet he managed to stand up. The room was spinning all of a sudden, and his hand rushed to cover his mouth in fear of purging, until the nausea settled down.

He then came to understand what Mallsoft meant, his trembling voice echoing in his mind, _what would become of us?_

Vaporwave was alone, and Cybertron was falling apart.

He wanted to be free, he wanted to live on his own accord; because he was sentient, he was alive. He was a Cybertronian as much as any Senator was, and frag Primus if that wasn’t the truth. Nightcore believed in this new equal world, he wanted all of them, all of those little, useless screens to have a chance at life on their own accord, without being treated as commodities and rented like objects.

But,

But he was still just a little, useless screen.

Vaporwave had moved closer to the berth, leaning heavily against it, his chassis barely reaching the edge of it and his hands gripped around the metal. He wondered if Breakbeat was fine, if she had hidden like Nightcore had told her. Another surge of nausea had him gasp air from his vents, exhaling slowly.

Suddenly, a knock at the front door had him back from his own thoughts and paranoia spiked up once again. It couldn’t be Rafter, he usually would just enter the flat with his keypad. Maybe, he tried to reach for a possible explanation that didn’t involve him spiralling, maybe it could have been some of the old mechs living next door.

They had come before to talk with the big bot about the news and the revolution. The small scale protests had quickly devolved into insurgences all over the planet, Decepticons gathering under the leadership of Megatron, now rising from the dust of the mines to the ground of illegal gladiatorial fights. Vaporwave had finally managed to see his face on a news outlet and thought the stern features of his face were remarkable, a face that he would remember.

“Who--”, he began, his voice broken and unsure, air hiccupped in his vents, “Who is it?”

Silence. A klik of silence that felt like cycles, until a neutral, flat tone answered.

“Nightcore.”

He was sure the voice had a tinge of his friend in it, but excitement was stopped in its surgence by wariness. The bot behind the door sounded deadpan, uninterested. Distant. His body suppressed any suspicion, as he dashed towards the door, hands pressed on the hard metal.

“Nightcore?”, he repeated. “Nightcore? Is it you?”

“Vaporwave. Open the door.”

The pink minibot’s spark faltered, thick tears forming at the side of his optics. He _knew_ , he knew that voice. It was him. It was his friend, it was Nightcore on the other side of that hard surface. He had come back, to _him_. His friend.

His Nightcore.

Vaporwave’s fingers spasmed on the keyboard to input the code, and the door grumbled, sliding open.

For every inch of metal that moved away, Vaporwave’s incredulous smile faded, piece by piece, and an expression of pure dread shook his entire frame at the mech standing in front of him. Tall, taller than he was, as a putrid petrol green shone under the evening sunset amongst the ashes of the storm and claws stood at the end of the deformed mech’s arms. His pedes equally swollen pieces of metal, while a square helm sat above a misshapen body. The faceplates were pure black.

A single, red optic stood in it and its light seemed to be sucked away by the darkness surrounding it like a planet standing in front of a black hole.

Vaporwave’s entire frame vibrated as if his body was being shaken away by the weather. The mech with no face spoke again.

“Vaporwave, I need you to do something for me.”

There was no emotion in that voice, but it was clearly Nightcore’s, and Vaporwave was clinging to the door’s keyboard like the last safe haven a mech lost at sea could have. The bot stepped inside the house and looked around, as if he recognised all of it but nothing piqued his interest.

One clawed hand pressed the button again, having the door shut close behind them.

Vaporwave couldn’t move his optics from the mech that was standing in front of him, the tears now rolling down his cheek plates of their own accord, as his tanks churned and raged against him, feeling the need to purge.

“What--” he sobbed, a hand reaching out to touch the mech’s chassis, “What have they done to you?”

There was no response from the bot, his single optic calmly watched over Vaporwave. One of the claws moved to gently push the hand away.

“Vaporwave. I need you to offline me.”

The crimson in the middle of the black hole, it stared deep down into his spark. The eerily composed request made with Nightcore’s voice had his helm shake in the same fashion of a glitched bot.

“No. No! I can’t!”

He shouted, his hands holding his audials. It must be an illusion, a dream. This couldn’t be happening. Not to him. Not to Nightcore.

“I can’t, Nightcore. What happened? What’s going on?!”

Vaporwave seized the much larger body, holding onto it with sobs filling the room. There was no comfort in that touch, the sounds under Nightcore’s plating were still and undisturbed by emotions, his arms resting alongside his figure as if he was just waiting for Vaporwave to stop his antics.

Nightcore was empty.

Devoid of everything, of everything that made him…. _him_.

“Put me in stasis.”

Nightcore offered, Vaporwave’s optics growing wider.

“Then, offline me.” The bot pushed him away once more, a series of noises accompanied the metal shifting on Nightcore’s plating and Vaporwave was rushed over by the pulsating light of his spark. The calming waves were captivating and he found himself thinking of days in the past, where a feeble thought of such sight entertained him, like a perverted joke between him and his processor.

“I-- I can’t.”

Vaporwave shook his helm again, slower this time, his gaze unmovable from the shining light in the middle of Nightcore’s chest plates.

“Please.”

The monotone was broken for a brief klik, and it sounded like the voice was pleading, sadness rolling on the words that followed.

“Do this last thing for me.”

Silence engulfed the both of them, as Vaporwave trembling body started to fill the gap between him and his friend. He held him again, and heard Nightcore shift down, baring his neck cables to his friend with another plate shifting.

Vaporwave’s vents wheezed, his mind distant, looking at his hands moving with a foreign look, as if the body he inhabited wasn’t his. Maybe that’s what Nightcore was feeling. His processor glitched under stress, making him shut his optics closed for a klik, and his usual soft, calm music started playing from his loudspeakers.

His faceplates flared up and another wave of tears escaped, dripping from his chin, his mouth seized shut in tension, when he unplugged various cables connecting Nightcore’s brain module to his body and spark, inducing a forced stasis.

The bot started feeling heavy in his hold, the optic slowly dimming out, and a claw brushed Vaporwave’s back.

“I have always loved your music.”

Consciousness left Nightcore, and Vaporwave rolled him on the ground, spark casing still open and the light of it flickering through the room. He could still save him, he could--- he could hide Nightcore, and once it’s all done he’d ask a medic to reformat his body.

_Yes!_

Vaporwave’s hands went back to hold his helm, wailing alone in the room.

_Yes! I could leave him rot in a closet with a monstrous body, and wake him up again only to let him discover he’s not dead. That he couldn’t trust me._

His body was ridden with spasms, twitching fingers reached out for the spark in front of him. They curled around the flame, twirling light against his smoking fingers, and his pain retractors spiked up, sending the impulse to scream to Vaporwave’s processor, over and over. But he bit his bottom lip, grabbing it at once and ripping it out with a loud groan.

The spark flew up, as Vaporwave retracted his burnt hand, quivering and hurt, held against his own chassis. A loud thud made him come back to reality. A smooth, dull sphere had fallen on the floor, the colour much similar to a brown dwarf, and he witnessed it darkening as the kilks passed, until the dark matter started crumbling into dust, ash. Vaporwave moved his helm back onto Nightcore, placing a spasmed hand on greying frame, death claiming him. He shifted over, closer, to hold the mech’s helm, tears dripping over a foreign body, with no smile, no warmth to lull him to peace. Nightcore’s beautiful smile, that, that flashed in front of him. He sobbed, incredulous optics staring at his empty surroundings, searching for help. Anyone. _Anyone?_

_Please, please anyone. Help me._

\--

Music played in his head, while staring at the screen in front of him, in the cramped flat. The Senate had been killed, slaughtered. Megatron had ridden them of such a useless burden, such disgusting mechs were finally food for scraplets.

Music.

The door of the flat swings open, Rafter said something in an alarmed tone, but his yellow optics were fixed on the screen.

Music.

He frowned, his knuckles cracking in anger as the newscast shows the sentence _Autobot faction unites against the Decepticons threat_. Fools. Ignorant bots who know nothing, who believe the Decepticons would wind down and bow their heads against another regime.

Music.

Rafter was shouting now, his heavy pedes stomping next to him as he hurriedly turned Vaporwave around. The construction bot’s face was confused, shaken, when meeting empty yellow optics.

Music.

He saw Rafter’s lips part to spell _Nightcore_. There is no reply, Vaporwave felt lifeless, and when Rafter left his shoulder to go assert the body in the room, realisation catching up with the big mech. Vaporwave’s helm fell downwards, recollecting his crouched position to stare back at the screen.

Above music.

Cries.

Above music.

Pain.

\--

****

**HUMANFORMERS**

****


End file.
